Christopher Thomson, American Psycho
by Unholy2012
Summary: This is my first fanfic. It's focused on Christopher Thomson, a sociopath in the capital wasteland. Six months since anyones seen the lone wanderer and project purity was finished, but the story won't say much about all that. Tell me if you want more.
1. Prolouge

"Yeah, things have been pretty quiet around here. All the water we need, raiders been stayin' away, and that crazy church have pretty much disapeared."

"That's always nice to hear, Manya. Things are pretty rough out there and it's great to know that civilization isn't completely extinct," said Christopher Thomson, the nice blonde haired man who had just been in town for a couple of days.

"Yes, it is..." the old woman said, taking a pause to admire the mans pleasent appearance and charming personality. "I'm sure Moriaty would give you a room to stay here for a few nights. Just promise to come see me before you leave. It's so rare to meet such a nice mannered man these days."

"I will," he said with a grin. "Thanks for all your help. I was completely lost here. These catwalks were getting confusing."

And with that, Christopher walked off lost in thought. He needed to get a room and some food. Manya Vargas had pointed him to a pleasent restaurant where anyone could order exquisite cuisine such as fried iguana on a stick or slow cooked squirrel stew and a hotel and bar. Fifteen minutes later he was settling comfortably into bed with a full stomach. He had rented the room at the local saloon from a red haired woman who called herself Nova. He had been pretty sure she had wanted to come to the room with him, claiming it was one of the services she offered, but from her enthusiasm, he could tell she was just as atracted to him as everyone else he spoke to was. He had, of course, turned her down. He found the idea of sex repulsive. Besides that, he other ways he planned to stimulate himself tonight.

Leaning in the bed he took a deep breath and took a glance at the pocket watch he carried with him everywhere. 12:14. it read. There was still some noise coming from the saloon area of the restaurant. Some quiet chatting and the clinking of glasses as they were set down. Another perfectly quiet Megaton night.

He picked up his bag from the floor and began to check the contents once more. 10mm pistol with full clip, two stimpacks, a bottle labeled "Rad-X"... The usual stuff every wastelander was expected to carry. Delving deeper into the bag, he found some stuff wastelanders weren't expected to carry. A jar filled with a colorless liquid, a carefully folded rag, carefully rolled up plastic tarps, several rolls of duct tape, and a large butchers knife. As the man held the blade a smile crept across his face.

12:52. He listened carefully again and heard nothing but silence. The angry irishman had apparently kicked out his customers, and he along with the ghoul and prostitute were sleeping soundly in there beds. It was time.

Moving silently the man shouldered the bag and moved to the window in his room. He slid it open carefully and crawled through landing lightly on his feet. He reached up and closed the window. _"Like I never left."_

Moving carefully, his senses on high alert, he made his way to the metal trailer that housed the woman named Manya. No one was on the streets. Another sign that the town had become to relaxed in the past few months. He was now at the front door of the womans home. He pressed his ears to the wall to listen for any sounds of life. A fan, and nothing else. She was asleep. He grabbed the handle on the door and turned it slowly. _"Unlocked."_ Unusual, yes, but everyone he had spoken to said the town was extremely safe. _"They hadn't accounted for me."_

Looking around the house he saw the woman sleeping silently on her bed with a faint smile on her face. He moved to her side and stared for a moment. As if feeling his eyes on her she yawned deeply and awoke.

"Ch...Chris? What are you doing in here, it's late. You shouldn-"

He had placed the rag over her nose and mouth with lightning fast reflexed. _"Chloroform acts so quickly..."_ he thought fondly.

Within minutes he had room covered completely in the plastic tarps, held down with the duct tape, and the woman strapped naked to a long table in her house with her arms legs held to her sides with extra tarp around certain areas of her body to keep perverts from staring.

At 1:35 she blinked her eyes open and looked around. Of course, she couldn't scream because of the gag he had placed in her mouth, but still she tryed. He rose from the chair he had been sitting on watching his prey and moved to her side.

"Hello Manya."

She looked at him with utter fear in her eyes, still trying to speak. He picked the blade up off the table where it lay next to her.

"I'm going to remove the gag from your mouth, and if you want to keep your tounge where it is, you're not going to make a sound." He did as he had told her and she kept silent. "Good. Now, I suppose you would like to know what nice ol' Christopher is doing to poor little Manya, and for what reasons. I have a need, you see."

"You're going to...to rape me?"

"_No, that's disgusting,_" he said, his voice changing from a calm and collected manner to utter rage. "I have this horrible tension that builds up inside me," the returning calm voice spoke, "And you're my release. It has to be done right, and bullets cause so much spray. It's unaceptable. This...this is so very neat, so very clean."

"You're going to kill me?"

"Yes."

"But...no...no..." she muttered to herself. Manya had decided to let the fear overcome her and began to try the screaming again. "Hel-" was all she got out as the gag quickly went back in her mouth.

"Oh, you shouldn't have done that. We had a real connection going I thought. Such a shame..."

And with that he held the knife up and got to work.


	2. Chapter 1

"_Oh my God…"_

Sheriff Lucas Simms had gone to visit Manya Vargas's home early that morning, bringing her a breakfast as he did on occasions. She was now the oldest member of Megatons small community, since her husband had dissapeared mysteriously a few months ago. She was weak and climbing up and down the catwalks was a bit of a workout for her. He had expected to find her just rising, and no doubt hungry.

He found something far more gruesome.

There was no sign of her anywhere in her home when he had entered, but there was some odd black plastic bags piled neatly on her bed. Curiousity had gotten the best of him, and even though he knew it was wrong to go through peoples possesions, he was also sheriff and he had never known Manya to be out this early. Even when she was out she rarely strayed from her front porch, except during meal times. He had opened the bags and saw something that had made him wretch right there in the old womans home, though he doubted she would much care now. He opened up the bag that was layed on top of the pile on her bed. Inside was a head. _Manya's head._ There was no blood, and the eyes were wide open as if looking at him to say hello. The other bags had shown themselves to contain other parts of the poor old woman. Hands, feet, arms, and the torso cut cleanly into four pieces stuffed into two separate bags.

"Stockholm!"

The one word was shouted and run all across the quaint little town of Megaton, demanding the presence of the closest person they had to a deputy. Within minutes that man had arrived at Simms side in his worn combat armor with a 10mm strapped to his side.

"Damn Simms, it's a bit early to be yelling like that. You might not need it, but most people enjoy their sleep," Stockhold said with an agitated look in his eye.

"Shut it," Simms barked. "Come look at this… You haven't eaten yet have you?" he said as he led him to the bags.

"No, but why do you need to know th-"

Stockholm had gone silent. He had seen dead bodys before, but this… Atleast the raiders killed their victims quickly. But this murderer had been careful, making sure each cut was clean. There wasn't even any blood in the bags. The bastard had drained it out of the dismembered body parts.

"Simms… Oh my God, Simms. What is this? What the hell happened?"

"What's it look like? God, sweet little Manya. She didn't do anything to deserve this…" Simms took a deep breath and closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. "Get down to the diner, grab everyone you don't recognize. I want them all in that abandoned church in half an hour."

"And what're you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna go down to that saloon and drag every single wastelander out of their beds and meet you there with them."

"Hey sugar, how'd you get along without me?"

"Fantasticly, Nova. If I was gonna stay another night here I'd might need some company," said Chris, looking as if he had done nothing but sleep for the past seven and a half hours. "But I've got to get going soon."

"Aw, that's too bad. We could have had some _real_ fun," Nova replied with a lascivious grin on her face. "When you headed out?"

"Preferably half an hour ago," Chris smiled and said as he opened the door. He turned and gave a short wave to Gob the Ghoul before he walked through the door way who waved back.

"You, you're not going anywhere. Get back inside."

"Uh, is there a problem… sheriff?" the blonde haired man said as he settled his eye on the badge pinned to the front of his aprehensers chest.

"Yeah, there is. Go to that bar now and sit down." Simms said to the man. "Gob, you're not selling any booze today." That was directed to the decaying man polishing a glass.

"The hell he ain't!" came the irish accent from a back room. An old man with graying hair came to stand behind Gob. "This here's my bar, and if I wanna sell any damn booze to any waster that comes in here I sure as hell will!"

"Moriarty, I'm the sheriff, and what I say goes. Period."

"Not once you step through that door you ain't. This is my world here, I make the rules. Now you turn around and head back out unless you wanna catch a bullet! I don't care for your damn western laws you've come up with just to give you some sense of self worth! I swear if'n it weren't for all those sheep you got followin' ya I would kill you now you mother-"

"I swear to God, Moriarty, one more word and I'm gonna paste ya!" Simms barked, pulling his rifle off his back and pointing it squarely at the bar owners chest, which seemed more than enough to silence the man, which was good because Chris thought he could have gone on for hours if everyone would've let him.

"Nova, go upstairs, grab everysinle one of them outta their rooms and bring 'em to me. Now!"

The red haired woman ran up the stairs as if Simms had just fired a shot that had barely missed her. Within minutes there was 6 very angry looking men in the saloon wiping their sleep ridden eyes and looking around as if they would kill the next man who so much as suggested they wouldn't be back in their beds in the next few seconds.

"Come on," the sheriff said aiming the rifle at them all and nodding his head towards Chris, who had been watching the whole scene with a faint look of amusement on his face. "You're all coming with me.

The empty Church of the Holy Prophet of Atom was enjoying its largest congregation to date today, it seemed. One dark skinned man at the podium, another on the catwalk above watching the door, and 12 sleepy looking men all standing side by side with another man smiling in among them.

"All right, which one of you did it?" the Sheriff demanded.

"Did what?" one of the wasters questioned, quite fairly Chris thought.

"Which one of you went up to poor old Manya's house last night and butchered her like fucking Butcher Pete, that's what!"

That sent a sudden quiet through the crowd along with some confusion. Most of these people had no idea who Manya was. Most, except for Chris. Those words had sent a chill up his spine. Someone had found his latest masterpiece, and even worse, had found it before he had skipped town. That had never happened before, he had always been miles into the wasteland before anyone had found those beautiful bags. He had chosen Manya because no one had spoken a single word to her for a day and a half until Chiris himself had aproached her. Why should today have been any different? It wasn't fair.

"I swear to God one of you had better start talking. I don't wanna have to start executing you all, but if it will help me find this psychopath who did this I will."

"We was all sleepin'," the same man as before spoke up. "You pulled us outta bed yourself. How could we have done it? Those stairs aren't quiet, we woulda woke someone up going down them to do it."

Several "yeah"s and "that's right"s came from the crowd this time.

"Wait!" a man with red hair and freckles said in the crowd. "I saw that guy talking to an old woman the other day," he said pointing at Mr. Thomson. "The one up top, neir the bar. Lives in some old metal trailer? Is that Manya?"

Christopher's hands twitched, as if they wanted to choke the life out of the freckled man of their own accord. But that wouldn't do. When one is accused of murder, surely nothing would prove it better than to commit murder right after.

"As a matter of fact it is," Simms said with a grin creeping across his face. "Were you talking Manya before she died, Mr…?"

"Thomson," he said, quickly, as if to appear confident and, more importantly, as if he had nothing to hide. "I was but I was just getting some directions. I was hungry and needed a place to stay, and I figured a local would be able to point me in the right direction."

"Or you thought the frail woman wouldn't put up a fight and wanted to know if she lived alone," the man in the cowboy hat said .

"No, no way," Chris replied, stifling the urge to laugh and tell the sheriff that he would have been able to handle two people last night easily. "Besides, you can ask Moriarty's whore, I was in bed at the saloon all night last night.

"What room number?"

"Uh…eight. Why?"

"Stockholm, go check room number eight at Moriarty's for windows. Take your rifle, if he gives you any trouble shoot the bastard in the leg."

"Yes sir," the man apperently named Stockholm said, and was out the door immediately.

"_Not good…not good…" _thought Christopher. He knew there was a windown in room eight, and the path he had taken to Manya's was a dirt path and with the giant steel walls around the town there was very little wind. His footprints could be there, and if they found the prints to her porch… _"Not good…"_

"Uh…sir," came Stocholm's voice. "There's a window there and uh…"

" 'And uh' what, damnit!"

"Footprints…There's footprints from the window to the porch."

"You sick sonofabitch," Simms said looking at the supposed murderer. "Grab him Stockholm, take him to my house… The rest of you are free to go."


	3. Chapter 2

"Ch-Christopher Thomson," Chris told Megatons sheriff, faking to the best of his abilitys' a stutter. When accused of murder, one is supposed to be scared of course.

"Why'd you do it?" Simms questioned, a fair question at that.

Sherfiff Lucas Simms' home was small, but livable. The man named Stockholm had taken Christopher Thomson to the place with a firm grip on his arm. Chris hadn't resisted, that would have showed guilt. Once inside Stockholm had demanded that the small boy sitting at the table reading a book with a picture of a pistol on the cover leave immediately, saying something about Maggie and Billy. The boy had looked up at him as if to question why, but the look in Stockholms eye silenced him immediately. As the boy left, his father, the one and only sheriff Lucas Simms. He entered with such authority in his walk and disgust on his face that Chris had to stop himself from applauding. Simms had said one word without even looking at his suspect. "Name?" And that is how Chris found himself in his current situation.

"I didn't do it. I just needed to get out of the wastes for a while, I didn't stick my nose anywhere it didn't belong," Chris replyed, trying his hardest to twist his face into shock at being accused of something so vile as cold blooded murder.

"Uh huh, sure you didn't. Stockholm, check his bag."

Without a word Stockhom moved forward, but slowly, as if afraid that Chris would leap up and dismember him as he had old Manya. In order to show he had nothing to hide, Chris shrugged his satchel off his shoulder and offered it to Stockholm with an expresionless face, which was really quite a bit harder than someone would expect, but pretending to have emotions was something he had to practice and all the time and effort had payed off.

"Uh… we got some stimpaks, a bottle of rad-x, bottled water, and here's a pistol," Stockholm counted off as he emptied bag. A grin spread across Christophers face as a memory flashed before him. Quite a happy memory too.

Manya was dead, her blood drained into several containers, and gift wrapped for the nice people of Megaton. Chris was releaved, as he always was after his ritual. But the ritual always left some rather questionable material in its wake. "_Blood covered tarp, a sticky red knife, a rag that was pecularly scentless… Can't keep these!_" Chris thought.

He was intending to disapear early the next morning, so the disposal didn't need to be too thorough. Simply dump them in the old battered trash can next to the saloons back door. Perfect.

"No knife?"

"No"

"How 'bout a saw?"

"Nu uh."

"God damnit!" Simms roared.

"I told you, I'm innocent. Why would I be carrying around a murder weapon?" Chris asked, putting a hurt expression on his face.

"Who else would've done it then? There's footprints, a window, and _you_," the sheriff responded, putting extra emphasis on the 'you' as if he knew what Chris was. "What local here would be dumb enough to murder someone and expect to get away with it?"

"Maybe one who had ways to easily frame a non-local?" Chris offered helpfully.

"How do I know you didn't get rid of the evidence? You burn it? Bury it?" Simms asked returning to his previous authoritive detective mode.

"Were than any ashes or dug up land around the area? I'm telling you sheriff, I'm innocent. I just wanna leave." Chris told him trying to sound as if he was becoming desperate, but a tiny little voice in his head was already whispering dark words of deceit and manipulation. _"Pin it on someone else, Christopher. Two for one buddy. Come on, you know you can do it."_

"You're not leaving until all this is cleared up… But you can have your stuff back," Simms said with a nod at Stockholm who began to repack the items into the bag. "But not the pistol," which stopped Stockholm in midmovement, who put the pistol bag on the table, the opposite end from Chris, and zipped the bag up and tossed it back to him.

"_Haha, look! He's afraid of you Chris. He won't come neir you even when it's beginning to look like you didn't do it after all."_ The voices whispered. "_He'll go along with anything you say, so long as it gets you far away from him. Just do it. More blood, more murder, and all you got to do is talk a little faster than usual. You know you want to."_

"Well then what do you want me to do? I can't stay in your house forever?"

"You're coming with me, we're gonna go find your knife." Simms said, sounding a bit upset, Chris thought.

"It looks pretty ash free to me, sheriff." Chris said happily to the man behind him. Simms had stayed behind him the whole time. This way he saw every move Chris made while Chris was completely blind to anything the sheriff did.

"Open that trashcan." Simms demanded.

This set off two noises in Chris's brain. One adamntly repeated one word, "_Fuck!_" while the other, more soothing voice told him "_Who else uses that trash can, Chris? The whore, the ghoul, and best of all, that angry irishman. Come on you silver tounged devil, just do it!_"

"Uh…" Chris mumbled appearing to be stunned, as he hoped would be a very normal reaction.

"What is it?" Simms said pushing past Chris, leaving his tactic of staring at the back of Chris's head behind him. "_Son of a bitch_." That one was more to himself than to anyone else around, most importantly, his prime suspect.

"If I was gonna kill her, why would I leave the evidence in such a public spot?" Chris asked hoping that the combination of shock and being asked to come up with a proper answer so soon after the fact would stop the man from remembering that Chris was doing all but making a mad dash for the exit when the two had first met.

"You're right… God, it had to be a local. We all take care of our own waste here, no one has ever had any need to go through someone else's trash before."

"So it was that ghoul? The girl?" Chris asked, cleverly leaving out the most important of the threesome.

"No…no… Gob doesn't have the strength to cut that forcefully and Nova's got a gently heart. It had to be the bastard!" Simms decided, to murmurs of pleasure in the back of Chris's head.

"You talking about that irish guy? Manny or something like that?"

"Collin Moriarty. Fuckin' Moriarty!" Simms yelled banging on the back door, deciding that testosterone would solve the murder faster than logic, which was good.

"What, what!" came the heavily accented answer as the door opened. "Ah, the wonderful sheriff. How can I help ye today?"

"I need to read your tabs on the locals, Collin."

"Ah, but that'd be such an invasion of privacy, wouldn't it now? And doesn't that just go against all these spectacular ideals you hold up so rightously friend?" Moriarty answered smugly.

"Damnit, Collin!" Simms said drawing a pistol from his waist, Chris's pistol, as a matter of fact, and pressing it against the now freightened irshman's chest. "Get on that terminal there and show me your file on Manya, now!"

"Oh…okay, ya, no problem," Moriarty answered quickly, turning slightly to type on his terminal, which promptly brought up an article titled "Manya Vargas."

Simms pushed Collin aside and began to skim the article, and so Chris decided he was going to play sheriff for the time being and began to read of his shoulder. A list of tabs, mostly non-alchoholic up until about 6 months ago, but reading further down it got progressively more interesting. Some accusations of jet addiction commentated on with a judgemental tone that suggested Moriarty was the only true and honest person on earth. It was all very convincing up until the final paragraph, with the date from two days ago.

"_That bitch isn't gonna pay her tabs anytime soon. I swear I have half a mind to go down there meself and take it from her. Ever since that patriotic husband of hers disappeared all shes done is set around that trailer of hers and stare. Acording to our joke-of-a-sheriff Simms, I have to let her keep a tab here, but if I were to make her disapear she wouldn't be able to anymore. I might not be able to get all my money back, but that'd be one less leach to worry about._"

Without a word Simms rose and turned to Mr. Moriarty.

"Collin Moriarty, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Manya Vargas. Come with me."


	4. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: The rating on this fiction has been changed to M because I felt that the swearing was becoming a little much for a T. Thanks for the few reviews I have. Enjoy…**

"_Ah…"_ came the soft, purring noise in the back of Chris's head.

Moriarty was for all intents and purposes, guilty! There was the knife, the tarps, the wonderful, gooey, sticky, wet, warm blood… Chris was freed, and Moriarty was going to be very dead, very soon. And all Chris needs to do is to show the sheriff how disgusting that foul, foul man was. "_After all, it was __**murder**__!_" Chris envisioned himself having the conversation in his head.

Chris mentally shook himself, he couldn't stand around lost in such happy thoughts for too long, that wouldn't be the politic thing to do after helping capture a murderer. "This mean I'm free to go, Sheriff?" Chris questioned, springing into action.

"Yeah, yeah, here's your gun. Sorry about all that, it's just… sweet little Manya…" Simms said with a drawn face as he handed the pistol back to Chris, but staying between Moriarty and the door. "You've been helpful, son, you can stick around here if you'd like for a while. I'd understand if you didn't though."

"Thanks for the offer, Simms. I'll grab lunch I suppose, I am quite hungry…" Chris told the man, realizing just how dangerously close he had come to neirly leaving town on an empty stomach.

"So what are ya gonna do then Simms? Kill me for a crime I didn't commit?" Moriarty questioned.

"You did it you bastard, the evidence is all right there."

"I don't know nothin' 'bout no damn bloody knife! I'm tellin' ya!" Moriarty screamed. It wasn't particularly neccesary to scream, considering he was just inside Lucas Simms small house sitting in, ironically, the same chair Christopher had been in an hour before.

"If it was up to me, Collin, I'd walk you out to springvale and shoot you now. You're lucky it isn't. Megaton is a democracy. The people get to decide what happens to you. 'Course I may get to shoot ya anyway, you don't really seem to have many friends in these parts." Simms said, "Unless you wanna save yourself the shame and us the trouble and request to be killed."

"Hell no I don't wanna be killed! I'm innocent, I tell ya!"

"Yeah, yeah sure you are. Now, Stockholm here is gonna keep an eye on ya for a while so I can go out and gather up those who are interested enough to show up to your trial. I'll be back in a couple of hours, I'll take you down to the old church building, you'll get to say what you wanna say, then I'll happily carry out whatever punishment is given to you," Simms told Moriarty with a sarchastic grin on his face. And with that, he stepped out the door.

1:14 PM read Chris's watch. He was meant to be out of here hours ago, but really the thought of watching the old man die was more than enough to keep him in town, eating, drinking 200 year old nuka cola, and pretending to be appauled at the horrific murder of Manya Vargas.

Having just finished his lunch at the local diner he stepped outside, thinking he may go see what the red haired prostitute and ghoul thought of their boss being an insane butcher, but was stopped at the door.

Lucas Simms stood in front of him, much in the same manner he had been this morning, but this time looking tired rather than angry. "Ah, there you are."

"You're not going to arrest me again, are you sheriff?" Chris said with his winning smile on his face.

"Ya, funny…" Simms replyed sounding as if he didn't think it was funny at all. "Look, son, I was wonderin' if you were interested in attending the trial of Collin. Usually we only let locals come, but I can make an exception just this once."

"Trial, sheriff?" Chris questioned, genuinely confused. If anything he expected to see Simms deliver him the message that Moriarty was dead and offer his most sincere apologys for any inconvenience his unjust arrest brought on, and maybe a nice coupon for dinner for two at the diner.

"Uh, ya, sorry, usually I only talk about trials to locals. See, here in Megaton, something goes wrong, we decide as a community what's to be done about it. Takin' Moriarty into the church you were in this morning with the rest of the crowd, and those of us who care enough about the situation will decide what to do with him. I thought you deserved to be involved just as much as any other local, so I came looking for you."

"Uh, ya, sure," Chris said, trying his best not to jump and scream at the thought of being able to have the man killed with a single word. "When does it start?"

"Now, actually. Stockholms up there with Lucy, Jericho, Andy, and Billy. So you're in?"

"Yeah, I'm in."

"Okay, folks," Lucas Simms said to the small crowd gathered before him. "I'm sure you've all heard by now. Manya was found dead this morning."

"_Hahaha! Look at that. The old man can't even say the womans name without looking like he's gonna cry! You should really be proud of yourself this time!"_ Chris's inner voice commented.

"So me and Stockhom here gathered up every out of towner here this morning. After a few minutes we narrowed our search down to just one of 'em. That'd be Chris, right there," Simms said pointing Chris out to everyone else.

"The fuck's he doing standing here then? If he fuckin' did it, shouldn't we have him on trial?" A black man with a beard spoke up, sounding as if he only knew how to put one emotion into his voice: anger.

"I'm getting to that, Jericho. Now, once Chris was in custody we searched him. He didn't have anything involved with the murder on him, and none of his belongings had blood on them. Naturally, we thought he had disposed of the evidence somehow. We searched the area, and found that the evidence was hidden inside Moriarty's personal waste."

"Ya, but couldn't, uh, anybody have put that stuff there? I mean, there's not actually a lot of security late at night here," a blonde haired woman spoke up, bringing the voice in Chris's head to mumble "_Bitch…_"

"Yes, that's true Lucy, and we wouldn't be here right now if that's all we had on him. We searched Moriartys personal terminal afterwards and found an odd note on Manya. We got copies of it here," Simms said handing a small stack of papers to Stocholm who passed them around the room. "Now we have a personal diary from Moriarty expressing that he wanted to kill Manya and all the tools used in killing her in his own waste. No one goes through other peoples trash, so he must've thought it was safe," Simms said as he stepped away from the front of the room and allowed Moriarty to take his place.

"Go ahead, Collin," Stockhom said.

"What the fuck do you want me to say then? I didn't do it, okay? I ain't never killed nobody unless they took a shot at me first, and I definetly ain't ever done it with a fuckin' butchers knife. It was that motherfucker there, it had to be!" Moriarty said, pointing at Chris again. As much as he enjoyed having all attention on him, it was getting quite old today.

"_Go right on ahead, Moriarty. Point the finger at the poor old wastelander who was too tired to fuck the towns whore last night, let alone dismember someone with such enthusiasm," _that dark voice whispered.

"That all you have to say Moriarty?" Simms asked after allowing him to stare at Chris menacingly for a whole 30 seconds.

"Fuck you, Simms. You know it wasn't me!" Moriarty yelled.

"Right. Well folks, what do you say we do?"

It had taken the people of Megatons' jury no more than 15 minutes to decide Moriarty deserved death. Chris had followed Simms and Stockholm as they marched him out to Springvale, saying he needed to get going anyway. Once they reached there, Moriarty had swore once more at the Sheriff, and then Lucas Simms ordered Stockholm to turn him around and then had shot Moriarty twice in the back of the head with a .32 pistol.

"Doubletap," Simms had said, with a dreary half grin on his face to Chris.

Chris had continued on straight after Simms and Stockholm marched off when he heard a familiar voice.

"What took you so long? We were expecting you hours ago," the female voice said as her 3 companions stepped out of the old building behind her.

"Yeah, Alex, I know. Ran into some trouble. Sorry."


	5. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: It's been quite a while since I last updated and I apologize. As much as I love the internet and all the communities within it, we all have personal lives and mine hasn't been to organized lately. Anyway, here's the next chapter…**

"_Aw, you're beloved family,"_ a voice in Chris's head said. "_Alex, the whore masquerading as a gentle woman of God. John, the romantic who can never decide to show or hide his true emotions. Tyler, the only one of the 4 to share blood with you and with an ego that makes your teeth itch. And finally, Zach, the only one which you feel you can trust and seems the most sensible of all."_

"Did you get the food or medicine?" Alex questioned of Chris as the five of them settled down around the small table inside the shack on the outskirts of Springvale.

"No, I did not," Chris calmly stated.

"Well, why not then _Christopher_?" Alex asked, with more than a hint of distaste in her voice.

"I was arrested for a crime I didn't commit. I thought it wise to leave town before anything else went wrong."

"You were gone for damn near three days man. You can't tell me you didn't have the time to pick it up before you were arrested for whatever the fuck happened," John spoke up.

"Yeah, I know. I tried, but I couldn't get it. Sorry." Chris said, somewhat off put by the fact the John had the audacity to speak as if he answered to him.

"Then what are we supposed to do then? Starve? Just because you couldn't take the time from hunting for drugs or booze to find us some damn food!" John yelled.

Christopher never really liked John. He paraded around as if he was owed something because life was so difficult for him. Chris had tried to explain before that life was difficult for everyone. Even so, John seemed to think that his life was especially challenging. More than once Chris had contemplated using John as the victim in one of his night time excursions, but had always had more sense than to act upon his thoughts. Maybe Chris hated John because he was able to express emotion so freely when he wanted to while it was often very taxing for Chris to emulate it. Or maybe it was because John always took the last swig of whisky. But it was most likely because John was always trying to involve himself in every ones business when it didn't have anything to do with him in the first place, which occasionally made Christopher's midnight parties a bit difficult to pull off.

"Look, we can just go onto the next town to find supplies," Tyler interrupted, "Besides, we've got enough food to last us a few more days anyway."

Tyler was nothing like John. Tyler did not question Christopher's actions so long as they did not bring extreme harm onto the group. Chris had always thought that was ironic seeing as Tyler's inflated opinion of himself and his abilities more often than not threatened the well being of everyone around him. On more than one occasion the group had stumbled through the desert without food for days on end because Tyler believed that he could reach the next town faster than anyone else who had attempted so in the past simply because he was Tyler. Still, Tyler was family to John. They were cousins. Chris put up with Tyler's behavior because it was expected of him and because Tyler was more than capable with a gun.

"Fine, fine," Alex muttered, "We'll keep moving then. Whatever, I don't care. I've got _special_ protection anyway. I don't have anything to worry about, unlike _some_ of you," she said, pointedly turning her gaze to Christopher then Zach, the two most godless men she believed existed on earth.

Christopher and Alex had a somewhat complicated relationship. She and John had met Christopher and Tyler inside an abandoned grocery store a few years back. The two groups had both been scavenging for food. Alex and John were already in the store when Chris and Tyler had entered, and the two had taken that opportunity to catch the cousins unaware and ambush them. Alex had held a gun to the back of Christopher's head while John and Tyler fought bare handed. After Tyler managed to subdue John and was pressing switch blade to his throat Alex had released John and explained that they didn't want any trouble and had only attacked them because they were frightened that the duo would kill her and John. Tyler, seeing an attractive woman, immediately established a truce, released John, and suggested the four Travel together. They had agreed because, as John had put it, there was "safety in numbers." The next two weeks had been difficult for Chris, having to juggle between John's constant emotional rollercoaster and Alex sharing her "good news." She had eventually given up after Christopher had lost his temper and screamed at her that he was his own god and if she didn't "shut the fuck with your damn 'gods' he would send her to them himself." Ever since then she had expressed a distaste for Chris, though Christopher senses there was something else underneath that, though he never cared enough to try and find out what it was.

"Fuck you, bitch," Zach said coolly, to a surprised look on her face and a chuckle from John and Tyler.

Zach had met the group stumbling about in the wastelands. They had found him laying beside a rock humming to himself and tying and retying his shoes. When the group had walked up to him he had looked up and said "anyone got a cigarette?" Alex and John had looked at each other as if unsure of what to think, Tyler had laughed, and Chris had pulled the pack of cigarettes he had out of his pocket and offered him one. Alex had wanted to go and get away from the man, Tyler had watched on with a grin on his face, and John had simply told Chris "I didn't know you smoked, man." After Zach had lit his cigarette and thanked Chris he had resumed toying with his shoelaces as if no one else was there. After the group exchanged confused looks, Chris had asked him what he was on. Zach had laughed and said it was "some good shit," and asked if he had wanted any. Turned out it was Jet. Alex gasped in disgust, John raised his eyebrow, and Tyler told Chris it was probably best if they leave. Chris had ignored all of them and had taken the inhaler from Zach's hand and took a hit for himself. Then he took another. Then another. After that Zach laughed and repeated "that's some good shit." Chris smiled in his haze and asked if Zach wanted to walk with them for a while. Zach stood up and began following the group while Alex, John, and Tyler began muttering to each other about how horrible it was that Chris had so willingly taken the Jet. Chris knew that he didn't have it in him to consider a friend, but from that day forward Zach was the next best thing.

"Well," said Chris, "it's getting late and we've got a long walk ahead of us tomorrow, so if you guys don't mind I'm gonna get myself some sleep."


	6. Chapter 5

**Authors Note: Another long stretch between chapters. Just like many of you I've been busy with the holidays, and of course Fallout: New Vegas. That being said, I haven't abandoned the story and plan to keep working on it, but it's only fair to say that you shouldn't expect it to be done quickly. I will finish this story, no doubt, but unless I were to receive a massive outcry that I update more often this tale will have to take the place of hobby to be done in my spare time. However, it will DEFINITELY be finished. Now, chapter 5…**

"No. No way."

It had been 3 days since the group had left the outskirts of Megaton. Those three days had been spent walking towards the next town they had heard was the safest, Rivet City. A man in Big Town has told them of it before they had left for Megaton. He had also told them of a place called "Project Purity." The mad spoken the truth apparently as they were indeed greeted by Rivet City guards at the Jefferson Memorial who had given them a weeks worth of water free of charge. Afterwards they had taken shelter for the night in some broken down shack with a sign saying "Pirate Pely's Boats and Bait." The following morning Chris had been preparing to head in to town alone, as per usual, when Alex had stepped in.

"No, not this time. You're not going alone. Half the time you don't come back with supplies at all, and the other half with not enough. We're all going this time."

"I'm sure your God will give you food Alex," Chris replied smiling at the young woman, "It really isn't necessary to wake the others for a simple trip into town is it?"

"Yes, it is," was all Alex had said before scurrying off to the back of the shack to wake the others before Chris could further object.

Ten minutes later the group was sitting around the counter in the store, all but Chris still looking very tired. John had jumped out of bed without a word, of course. After all, how better to flatter dear Alex than with complete obedience? Tyler and Zach had been a bit more difficult. Tyler had refused at first until John had said something about hitting the bar while Chris and Alex went shopping. Zach had stayed in bed for a full five minutes with Alex hovering over him speaking loudly to try and wake him and got up only when she threatened to throw the last of his Jet into the basin. She wouldn't have, of course. Chris wouldn't allow it. But still, it was enough for Zach to get up and shortly after Agree to go to the bar with Tyler and John.

The five were sitting around the table eating the last of their food and sharing two bottles of water. "_Breakfast with your beloved family, Chris,"_ came the icy voice from within. They all had their own share of wasteland cuisine in front of them, passing the bottles of water around. Zach would occasionally glance down at his feet at the bag that held the collection of chems as if still worried Alex planned on tossing them into the river. Tyler and John were quietly speaking about their day and what sorts of booze they planned on ingesting in the next few hours. Tyler even said something about finding himself a whore to which John just said "That's disgusting man." Alex was silently staring at Chris as she ate. Sometimes Chris wandered if she knew what he had done, though the reason why she would keep silent always escaped him. The thought never lingered long though. If she knew she would undoubtedly have confronted him by now.

A few minutes later they had all finished their food and walked outside. Zach all ready had a canister of Jet in his hand and took himself two puffs. He jokingly offered it to Tyler who just told him "Hell no," and pushed his hand away. Chris reached for the inhaler and his wrist was grabbed by Alex.

"Not today, junky. We've got business to attend to."

"_Perhaps your next playmate should be closer to home Chris…"_ hissed Chris's ever faithful companion. Chris would love nothing more than to take Alex's life. When her and John had joined up with him and his cousin he had often discussed abandoning her in the wastes with Tyler, but Tyler never took him seriously. Once Tyler had even given Chris a line about her being family now, as if that would settle all dispute between the two, but it had just made Chris hate her even more.

Chris was shaken from his thoughts by a voice coming through a loudspeaker. "State your business."

"Uh, we're just here to pick up supplies and we'll be going, sir," Alex said speaking back to the loudspeaker.

"Then why are their five of you?"

"Well a few of us were going to see if you, uh, had a bar while me and Chris here were going to see what your traders had to offer," Alex said back motioning at Chris.

"All right, we'll let you in, but don't cause any trouble."

There came a loud sound of metal scraping against metal and a bridge began to swing out from the side of the giant boat that was Rivet City. Once it locked into place granting them passage Alex turned to Chris. "Looks kind of rickety. You first," she said with a smile.

Chris rolled his eyes and quickly began marching over the bridge followed closely by the others. When he reached the end he saw the man responsible for their integration. A tall man with light colored skin and combat armor just the same as the ones worn by the people at Project Purity. "Hello," Chris said, "Could you give us directions to the bar and to a place we could do some trade?"

"Uh huh. Go through this door here," he said pointing to the door to Chris's left, "and all the way to the bottom to find the bar. The other door goes straight into the market. We got a diner there too if you folks are hungry."

"Thanks man," Zach spoke up and dashed off without another word through the door that supposedly lead into the bar followed by John and Tyler.

Chris smiled and nodded at the guard and walked through the door to the market with Alex behind him. "Oh… oh wow…" came Alex's voice.

"_Oh wow indeed,"_ purred the inner voice from Chris, though for slightly different reasons he suspected. Below him was most certainly a market. Several shops set up with all sorts of goods on display. Weapons, armor, ammunition, food, water, chems. Everything a wastelander could ever dream of. But that's not what caught Chris's inner eye. What drew his attention was all the people. There had to be twenty, maybe thirty of them before him, and that's not including the vendors themselves. People of all sorts, male, female, black, white, asian, scrawny, muscular, fat… "_Look at all your new toys!" _the voice inside whispered. "_However will you decide?"_

All the happy thoughts of night time parties filled with flashing steel and spraying blood came crashing around Chris when Alex spoke up, serving as a reminder that this time he may not be able to have a local to show him just how fun the town really was.

"Well," Alex said looking at Chris, "let's go find what we need. For real this time."


	7. Chapter 6

It had been two hours since arriving at Rivet City, and still Alex had not let Chris stray more than eight feet from her. First they had went to the diner to stock up on water, then the gun store called Flak 'N Shrapnels, and then she had dragged Chris to a clothes shop called Potomac Attire. Chris longingly watched the chem store next to it while Alex searched for something nice for herself, wishing that he was in the crowd of wastelanders browsing the wares. Chris had contemplated going off on Alex and going to do his own thing, but that wouldn't do. It had been rather foolish of him to forget to get supplies back in megaton and now and then it was best for Chris to pretend to be interested in the well being of the group rather than just himself, if only to keep up appearances.

"Should we pick up some food for everyone?" Alex asked Chris, shaking him out of his thoughts, with a smile holding her newly purchased dress.

Approaching the diner Chris saw a man asking the diners owner, a man named Gary, rather or not he would be at church tomorrow morning. Alex put in some to-go orders to bring to the rest of the group while listening to the man talk on. After Gary was forced into promising to attend tomorrow the man finally left, much to Chris's relief.

"You guys have a church?" Alex asked cautiously.

"Yeah, but most just go to flatter Clifford. I'd bet half of these people don't even know what the Bible actually is."

"You mean, a real church? Not some wasteland religion, but actual church?"

"Yep, teachings straight from that holy book itself, though I'm not sure how anybody can still believe in that stuff after the end of the world all ready came and went, huh," Gary said smiling as he handed Alex some brown paper bags holding the groups lunch.

"We should go Chris," Alex said hopefully as the duo walked down the stairs looking for the bar to deliver the food.

"No. You should go," Chris answered plainly without turning to look at Alex.

"Well why not? You wouldn't even listen to me when I tried explaining it to you. Seeing that other people believe the same thing, that it's not just me or that I made it up for myself, it might help you see the light."

"I have no interest in seeing this light. If you so desperately need to have someone accompany you, ask John. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to tail you like a lost puppy."

"What do you have against him, Chris? Seriously, why are you always so distant to everyone? You know, we could be really great friends if you would just give me a chance."

"Okay, Alex, we're friends. Now, will you let your friend go get a drink in peace?" Chris said taking two bags of food out of Alex's hands and opening the door into the Muddy Rudder intending to find Zach and get some must needed jet in his lungs.

Two in the morning. It was two in the morning, and everyone was asleep. The group had gone and rented two hotel rooms for the night. Alex had demanded she get her own room and no one had complained. Everyone else was thoroughly wasted, except for Chris who was maintaining a façade of drunkenness. The ship was quite. No one made a noise. Chris laid in his bed, contemplating attempting to find a playmate for tonight. It was risky. Very risky. He had not had the opportunity to interview locals. No chance to find anyone who lived alone, find out where they lived, get a feel for security on the ship at night. Nothing. Acting rashly could mean his death. But today had been stressful. Very stressful. He needed to relax, and while booze was good enough for most, it was never quite as relaxing as the feel of a knife cutting through soft skin for Chris.

"At the very least, I can go have a smoke," Chris thought, grabbing the cigarettes and lighter from the hotel rooms table and silently leaving the room. "I'll just wander the ship a while, see what there is to see, and if anyone sees me I'll say im just out for a night time stroll and a cigarette. Easy."

And with that, he was off. Wandering the cool hallways of the old ship, listening to the distant creaks, but not hearing a single human made sound. He wondered towards the market and found the door locked. The same with the bar. Eventually he found himself down a long corridor with one open door. As he approached the door he heard mumbling.

Chris carefully peeked around the corner, half hoping to find someone neatly tied up on a table and ready for him. What he saw made his stomach churn.

It was the church and the priest was praying. Worse than that, the priest had saw him and made eye contact, leaving no room for Chris to maneuver his way out of a conversation with this man of God.

"Come in son, come in. Don't be shy," came the preachers voice. "The Church of Saint Monica is always open."

"_God damn it…."_ hissed Chris's inner voice.

"Oh hey. Thanks. What are you doing up so late mister…?"

"Father Clifford. Not mister. Just call me Father Clifford. I was praying son, praying."

"Ah well I guess that church would be the place to do that. I was just out for a stroll so if you don't mind…" Chris said smiling as he began inching backwards.

"Now you can make some time to chat with an old, lonely man can't you? In fact, if you can I promise you'll hear the best news of your life if you haven't all ready."

"_Kill him,"_

"_I suppose I could father. Do you mind if I ask you a question first?"_

"_Of course my boy. What is it?"_

"_Do you live alone father?"_


End file.
